


Truth

by Bloomquist



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Adult Dipper Pines, Human Bill Cipher, Introspection, M/M, RP-based, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-09-20 05:16:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9477230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bloomquist/pseuds/Bloomquist
Summary: Bill purposely leaves the knife there as a reminder of Dipper's powerlessness against him and the life (and soul) he sold for the silly human concept of selflessness.In the light of new feelings, it's beginning to feel obsolete.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PhenixFleur](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhenixFleur/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Tethered](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8974183) by [PhenixFleur](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhenixFleur/pseuds/PhenixFleur). 



> Wow, my first fic rated lower than E. This is a drabble I wrote up for Luna_Moth's birthday, in conjunction with her fic, Tethered.
> 
> In order for this to make the most sense, it's probably best to read that one first.

Bill knew. Of course he knew.

The way his pet gaped at the knife he left in the same place every night, mentally replaying the motions of killing him over and over. Using that delusion and clinging to it like it was the only chain keeping his sanity intact, padlocked by the fact that Bill left it in the same place every night like a habit...

When in reality Bill made a conscious choice every night to extend the lifeline. He had for months now. It was only one object in the veritable arsenal of spells and techniques Dipper had at his disposal, but that was a fact that his pet never seemed to notice - Because, under Bill’s careful manipulation, he didn’t want to. It was the constant reminder of his tethe. If Bill died, so, too, would Dipper, in a much more slow and painful way, forcibly separated from his family. It was something not even the great (more like greatly overrated) mind of Stanford would be able to unravel without killing Dipper for good.

A reminder that the deals he made were entirely inescapable without sacrificing himself for the greater good, something he wouldn't do, not as long as his sister was alive.

Even if that was enough, each time his pet stepped out of line, he demanded payment grossly out of proportion with the offense that was laid against him. Humans were just as easy to manipulate as dogs: Reward them for the good and punish them for the bad, and soon they were obedient, subservient, dominated. It happened every time without fail. It would happen again, Bill assured himself as Dipper’s breath stilled against him, checking for the third time that night that Bill was still asleep.

Bill could only guess that sometimes he really was asleep, but just as often he was faking it, breathing slow and steady, drifting in and out of a state of rest fluidly. It wasn’t his own paranoia. It definitely wasn’t his own paranoia. Absolutely wasn’t his own paranoia.

After all, Dipper was his pet. He may speak out of line, but he never acted upon it.

Dipper shifted forward out of Bill’s arms and he gently let him go, going so far as to turn on to his back, arms spread in a way that spread him across the majority of the bed. What could be easily mistaken as an unconscious movement was actually Bill’s attempt to feel out what Dipper was planning to do with his freedom.

There was a gentle clatter of metal and Bill tensed, peering into the darkness. His heart pounded in his throat.

With gentle fingers, Dipper nudged the knife back into the place it had been before he accidentally bumped it and looked back at Bill with an expression of fear. Bill must have closed his eyes in time because soon he was moving across the room.

It wasn't long until he heard the murmur of a spell from the peripheral of his hearing. Simple ones for levitation, for mind warding. More complicated ones that Bill could tell from the tone weren't working. He opened his eyes again to watch with a soft expression he unconsciously wore, blue and gold glow intermingling softly with each spell cast.

An inexplicable warmth spread in Bill’s chest, clawing its way into his veins; the whispers of Dipper’s voice from the other side of the loft floor, the gentle sighs of clothing falling to the hardwood when something didn't work out or when Dipper broke away his concentration.

Bill finally fell asleep.

When Dipper woke the next morning, the knife was gone.


End file.
